


Hate Me, Break Me

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-02
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2019-01-19 06:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12404916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: "Haven't you heard? Hermione Granger is dead, Bellatrix Lestrange killed her three weeks ago."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Prologue

Drip, drip, drip…drop. Drip, drop, drop, drop. 

The Death Eater cell came complete with dripping water from an unknown location. Hermione almost smiled. But if she did, her dry lips would crack and bleed, then the twisted ‘healers’ employed to keep the prisoners alive would have an excuse to examine her. She didn’t want to be examined…again. It was bad enough after the torture, and that was just a cursory look to make sure all vital signs were relatively normal.

Drop, drip.

Hermione curled into a tight ball and leaned against the cold, bumpy stone wall. The torture was bad, but the water was driving her insane. And the lack of light. The only time any light shone in was when a guard shoved a bowl of food in through a slot in the door. Now that light hurt, a sure sign that she had been in her hole for far to long.

The door opened, Hermione had to squint at the sudden light. “Take her to the education quarters,” a dull voice said. She saw a wand point inside, and then, nothing. 

Hermione was strapped to a chair, not a good sign in any situation. She opened her eyes. “Repeat after me,” A man said, “My name is Elena Hisham.” He was staring at her. Hermione remained silent. “Your name is Elena Hisham,” he said firmly. 

“My name,” Hermione rasped, “Is Hermione Granger.” Her body convulsed as it experienced something like electric shock.

“You’d do well to learn your name, Miss Hisham, or pain will become your new best friend.” His voice held no inflection whatsoever.

“What are you talking about? Pain and I are old pals.” Her body convulsed again. It when for hours, and then he sent her off to another cage, this one worse than the first. They threw her in, hard enough to jar her bones, but not enough to break them. Somehow, Hermione knew that they wouldn’t feed her. A nice warm meal, or even dog food, was not the standard follow up to a long bout of torture. She’d be lucky if she received water in the next two days. It could be a week before they gave her food. The best thing she could do was sleep for as long as possible. As her eyes closed, she was jerked awake by sound in her cell.

“Your name is Elena Hisham. You were born October the fourth, 1981.” It repeated over and over, almost, but not quite becoming white noise. Whenever Hermione’s eyes closed, the volume would increase. Then it would ever so slightly decrease until her eyes drooped shut again.

It went on for hours and hours, eventually, Hermione slipped into a state of semi conscious delirium. One thought kept her sane, and let her be Hermione Granger: The Order will save me. Harry won’t let me rot here. They have to save me.

In the morning, the guards came for her again. They dragged her back to the room and strapped her into the chair. Her eyes were forced open, and when she tried to blink, she couldn’t. “Good morning, Miss Hisham,” her captor said pleasantly, “We’ll be watching some home movies today.”

Her throat was raw, but she felt the need to insult him, “Die,” she said simply. It was more of a rasp. Her body convulsed once again.

“That is not the way one treats one’s elders, Miss Hisham.” He sounded like a condescending teacher. Almost like Snape. 

Images flashed in front of her, all over the room, assaulting her senses. Audio was piped in, giving her all of the information about Elena Hisham there was to know. I am Hermione Granger! It was all Hermione could do to block out the assault, she couldn’t close her eyes, or cover her ears, or anything. Her thoughts were the only thing she could control. I. Am. Hermione. Granger. It hurt, the lights, the sounds, the starvation, the thirst, the lack of sleep. But she couldn’t think about that. I! Am! Hermione! Granger! This had to stop. The Death Eaters wouldn’t win, they couldn’t. “I am Hermione Granger.”

“Haven’t you heard, Miss Hisham?” The Teacher asked her, “Hermione Granger is dead. Bellatrix Lestrange killed her three weeks ago.”

The room fell out from under Hermione. That was why Harry hadn’t come for her. He thought she was dead. She was alone, with the enemy. This was bad.

“Now, Miss Hisham, would you please tell me your name?”

She had to give in, but she couldn’t stop fighting, not yet. Hermione Granger never gave up this easily. “I don’t know why you keep calling me Miss Hisham. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Take her back. This is going to take awhile.”


	2. Chapter One: Not a Fun Job

Chapter One

Elena checked her watch for the third time in five minutes. He was late, that wasn’t a good sign. She crossed her legs and leaned back on the bench. She was wearing an actual cow leather coat that fit like a second skin and her boots were made of the finest dragon hide available. With her dark eyeliner and up-do, she looked like a generic Muggle film badass. 

“Miss Hisham, I am sorry I’m late. I trust you have not been waiting for very long.”

“Goyle,” she said sternly, “Our appointment was for 10:00 AM, not 10:10, thus far, in your life, you have survived because of your friends, and I do use that term loosely, and, of course, your father’s friends. If you would like to survive on your own, I suggest you learn to arrive on time.”

He muttered another, “I’m sorry.”

Elena rolled her eyes, “Don’t apologize so much. Now come.” She strutted into the building behind the bench she was sitting on, knowing Goyle would follow. A door was opened, beckoning them to enter. “Sit.” He did, she didn’t. “You don’t know what I really do in our little club, do you?”

“N-no.” He was worried, good.

Pictures appeared, in them, Blaise Zabini was talking to a Muggle woman, they were laughing. There were about a dozen. “You see, Goyle, this confuses me. I’ve known Zabini for awhile now, and every time we’ve met, he’s talked like one of us, walked like one of us, hell, he even smells like one of us. But these pictures speak for themselves. What has Zabini been doing?”

Goyle was silent, not because he was withholding information, but because he was truly confused. “But Blaise hates Muggles, he’s not a blood traitor.”

“Then where was he last Thursday, Goyle? His life is in your hands. Or do you want him to die, maybe you’re the blood traitor and you set him up to take the fall?” Now Goyle would be even more confused, Elena knew. But, though he knew that Zabini was loyal, he would sell him out. Gregory Goyle was a bumbling idiot, but he was still a Slytherin.

“He was in London! With that piece of filth. I was going to turn him in, I just found out yesterday!”

Elena gathered up her papers, “Very well then. You’ve been very helpful.” She waited for him to leave, but he continued to sit. “Goyle.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He left. Elena remained for a few more minutes, gathering her things up and charming them into her bag. She then left the building and made arrangements for the disappearance of Blaise Zabini. 

At around three o’clock she arrived to her house outside of London. “What are you doing here?” She asked Blaise, seeing him sitting on her sofa.

“I came to speak with you, obviously.” He didn’t stand.

“Should I even ask how you got inside?” She sat down in a chair near him.

“Probably not. I’d end up being hexed, and then things would just be bad.” He stopped talking, seeming to think about his next words. “I…I need help, Elena.”

Elena sat up straight. “What sort of help?” she asked carefully. Goyle wouldn’t have told them about their meeting, he was too scared.

“I…there’s…Merlin, I don’t know how to say this.” He stood up and walked to the window. Looking outside he said, “I met someone.”

“I hear a but coming.”

“I don’t think I was alive before her. It sounds like some horrible cheesy thing from a putrid romance novel, but it isn’t anything like The Wizard Who Loved Me. I’m scared, for her, for me.” He turned around, there were actual tears in his eyes. “She’s a Muggle.”

Elena’s eyes widened, “The pictures were real,” she whispered.

“What pictures?” Elena took out her wand and waved it over the coffee table. The pictures appeared. “You’ve been spying on me? I thought you were my friend.” He sat back down. “You’re going to kill me, and her, aren’t you?” He sounded hollow, broken.

“Your confession just saved your life.”

His head snapped up, “What?”

“What I tell you now cannot leave this room,” she said slowly. He nodded, “For the past five years, I have hunted for traitors among the Death Eaters. Every person I have turned over to them has been innocent of everything but senseless racism. They have all been tortured and died because of me and my lies.”

“You’re a Pureblood, though. Why would you turn them in?”

“Had you ever heard of me before five years ago?”

He thought, “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. You didn’t go to Hogwarts and…”

She was shaking her head. “Actually, I did go to Hogwarts.”

“There was no Elena Hisham in Slytherin in all of the years I was there. Were you a Ravenclaw?”

She heaved a sigh, like a diver ready to do a belly flop of a cliff. “We were in the same year. I…became a Death Eater shortly before what would have been my seventh year.”

“There was no Elena Hisham in my year.”

“You’re quite right.”

He was still confused. “You say you went to Hogwarts and were in my year. But now you’re saying that you weren’t in my year. Make up your mind!”

“Think it through, Zabini, there have to be at least a few brain cells in the pretty head of yours.”

“Brain cells? Isn’t that a Muggle thing?” She didn’t answer. “Okay, you were in my year,” she nodded. “But Elena Hisham wasn’t.”

“I am Elena Hisham.”

“But you were in my year.” She nodded again. “You haven’t always been Elena Hisham.”

“Give the man a prize.”

“Who were you then?” Now he was interested.

“You’re doing so well, why don’t you figure it out? Talk yourself through it.”

“You became a Death Eater after sixth year?” She nodded, eyes closed, “All of the Slytherin girls came back for seventh year, none of them with the Dark Mark. But so many other girls didn’t. You don’t look like a Patil, but that could have been changed though spells. The only girl you look even remotely like is…” he trailed off. “That’s impossible, she’s dead.”

“Who, Blaise?”

He looked at her intently, squinting as if he was trying to read really small writing on her forehead. “Hermione Granger.” He whispered.

“You’re smarter than you look. No one has figured it out as quickly as you yet.” She stood up, “I’m going to see if I have any cookies, you deserve one.”

“Don’t do that.” Now he stood up to pace. “Are you a spy for Potter and his band of merry men?” Elena sat back down. She didn’t say anything. “Well? Are you?”

“No one knows I’m alive,” she whispered. “After…After Snape killed Dumbledore, I had no one to go to. If there’s another spy on the inside, I don’t know him. There was no safe way to get a message to them. Maybe I’m better off dead.”

“I could get a message to them,” he didn’t hesitate to offer.

“I’ve been dead for five years. Giving them hope, especially from someone like you, would just be cruel. They’ve mourned me, even buried an empty coffin for me, just so I would have a headstone.” She smiled ruefully, “I’ll do my bit, if I’m lucky, I may even survive.”

He nodded. Finally, he asked, “Do you know where Nan-- my Muggle and I could go?”

“I’ll tell them that you’re dead, and your Muggle. You’re smart not to give me her name. Get out of the country. Don’t tell me, or anyone else for that matter where you’re going. Change your names, and your faces. And remember, magic can be traced. If you want to use it, at least make sure other wizards have been there before. Beyond advice, I can’t help you.”

He stood up and headed for the door. “Thank you, Gran-- Hermione. You’re doing something good here.”

“At least no one calls me a Mudblood anymore.”

He winced. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t--”

“You and your friends meant every word you ever said to me. Don’t insult me furthermore by apologizing to me because I can be the bigger person and help you. I know you wouldn’t have helped me if I came to you and begged on my hands and knees. Even if you still thought I was a Pureblood. Make no mistake, Zabini, living amongst the snakes doesn’t make me one. I may be able to tolerate them, but I still hate them. Never darken my doorstep again.”

He walked out, knowing he owed a debt to Hermione Granger. And also knowing that she would never let him repay it. 

Elena went into the kitchen and made herself tea. She sat at the table, wishing she could cry for the girl the Death Eaters had killed and broken so many years ago. “I! Am! Hermione! Granger!” She could still hear herself screaming, voice hoarse from lack of water and the torture. She’d clung to her beliefs, her knowledge of her former life, but they’d taken away her spirit. After the conditioning and five years of being a Pureblood, Elena didn’t know how to be Hermione Granger. 

That was the real reason Elena didn’t want anyone to tell the Order that she was alive. The body had survived, but the soul hadn’t. The girl who’d once fought for the rights of house elves now turned over Death Eaters to be tortured and killed by their own people. She’d killed Death Eaters, too, the ones who hadn’t given her a chance to turn them over. And, as much as it hurt, she knew she’d injured members of the Order past the point of recovery. There was no point in trying to recover her past.

She was just a dead witch walking.

“Elena, are you there?” She heard a voice calling from her bedroom.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, rising from the table. “Draco,” she said, entering the room, “What a pleasant surprise.” His head was sticking out of the green flame.

“I know. The French Witch’s Ballet is in town. Would you care to join me for three hours of boring, pointless, and utterly confusing dance, followed by very small servings of very expensive food? Tonight.”

“Tonight? I’m not sure about--”

“Or tomorrow, the next day even. We don’t have to go to the ballet if you don’t want to.” He stopped talking, “I’m babbling, aren’t I?”

“It’s charming, really.” She smiled. If only he knew who he was inviting to ballet and dinner. Draco Malfoy courting Hermione Granger, what would Rita Skeeter think of that? “It’s been a bad day, though.”

“Who?” he asked. Malfoy was one of the few people who knew of her real job.

“You’ll find out soon. If I tell you, you’ll hate me.”

“I doubt that’s possible.”

“If you only knew,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Please tell me, I promise I won’t hate you for it. We all have to do our job. Yours is just a little…messier than most.”

She closed her eyes, exhaled, and said, “Zabini.”

He was in the room before she knew it, arms around her, comforting her instead of condemning her. “What did he do?”

She pulled away from him. He let her go. “I was given some pictures of him with a filthy Muggle.”

“Blaise wouldn’t do that. I’ve known him since I was eleven years old, trust me on this, he hates Muggles and Mudbloods.”

She swallowed, “He came and asked me for help. I took care of him here.”

He sat down on her bed, “Not Blaise.”

“I’m sorry that he was your friend.”

“No,” he stood up again to pace, “You’re missing something. He wouldn’t be so stupid!”

“Love,” she explained, “Even to a filthy Muggle, makes you stupid, Malfoy,” she slipped and used his last name. “It was quick, if that’s any consolation. He may have been a traitor, but he was a good wizard. I would have received no joy from torturing him.”

“The Dark Lord’s Pet, showing mercy? Right, and my name is Ron Fucking Weasley.” Elena flinched, he didn’t see her do it, “You don’t know how to show mercy.”

“I’m sorry for the loss of your friend, Draco.” 

“I need to leave. Forget about the ballet.”

She smiled politely, “I never much cared for ballet. Will you be calling again?” For some strange reason, she actually cared.

“Of course, you do your job, Elena, no matter how shitty it is. I understand that. I just need to recover from this.” He walked back to her fireplace, stepped inside, threw down some floo powder and said, “Malfoy Manor.” 

“Pure blooded prat,” Elena muttered after he disappeared.


	3. Chapter Two: Something Changed

Chapter Two

Draco Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace and walked into his kitchen. “You shouldn’t be here,” he told the man sitting in the breakfast nook. 

“Ron’s gone,” he said, “We think he’s been captured. You ne--”

“If he’s been captured then he’s dead or wishing he was,” Malfoy snapped.

“It’s been less than a day.”

“A day or a week, it makes little difference. Dead is dead.”

“You think I don’t know that? He’s my best friend!” Harry stood up and took a step at Malfoy. “I can’t lose him, too.”

“Granger’s been gone five years, Potter. Get over it already.” Harry pulled his hand back, preparing for a punch, “I know you’ve got a hell of a right hook, but I really don’t need to complication of explaining a bruise on my face at tonight’s meeting.”

“Tonight?”

“Weasley may be there, as a sacrifice, a reward.”

“Can you save him?”

“Maybe, I’ll be honest with you, Potter, if I can’t find him before the meeting, he’ll die, and, I promise you, he’s been tortured.”

“Can you save him?” 

“I’ll try.”

Harry nodded, “I need to report back. Good luck.”

Malfoy nodded, “How did you get here?”

“The back way, which is where I’ll be going now.” He walked out.

Malfoy sat down, “Shit, Weasel.” And then he remembered Zabini. Who would have thought that Zabini would fall for a Muggle? And then be stupid enough to ask for help from one of the people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

Elena Hisham was a cobra among vipers. She was the Dark Lord’s favorite, his pet killer. He went as far as to call her his daughter, he loved her, as much as he could love anything. And because of that, she had to be the most dangerous, most vicious, most deadly Death Eater around. Despite all of that, he couldn’t help but like her. Something about her was so different from the others. She’d kill him in a heart beat if she ever discovered who he really was, but she might regret it.

Unlike so many Death Eaters, she still had a soul.

He wondered how much longer she could keep it.

***

Midnight rolled around sooner than Elena wanted. Still, she was dutifully waiting with the other Death Eaters for the Dark Lord. He wasn’t late, of course, they were all just early. The Dark Lord was infallible.

Yeah…right.

There was a lot of small talk going on, like always. Two people away from where she was standing, a Death Eater, she though it was Bradley Cooper, was asking the person next to him, “Have you been to any Quidditch games this season?” Surprisingly enough, even with the war in full swing, Quidditch hadn’t stopped. The Ministry wanted to keep things as normal as possible. Of course, no one would worry about Death Eater attacks if they could go to Quidditch games.

“Not yet, but it’s still early in the season,” the voice was high pitched, but decidedly male, probably one of the newer recruits fresh out of school, or perhaps still in it. “I always go to the finals, though.”

“Will--”

The doors opened. That was Elena’s cue to lead everyone in. She stood at the left hand of the Dark Lord, and Lucius Malfoy, who’d escaped from Azkaban three years prior, stood at his right. The symbolism was lost on few. Malfoy, the younger, obviously, usually stood next to her, but he seemed to be late today. Then she saw him enter in the back. He nodded at her in greeting, but it seemed strained. Not only that, he looked worried, or, at the very least, preoccupied. She shrugged inwardly, Malfoy could be weird sometimes.

Then the meeting was underway. They Dark Lord droned on and on about the supremacy of Purebloods and why they were entitled to rule the world. Elena always liked to keep in mind, heavily guarded with occlumency, of course, that he was a half blood, and, by rights, wasn’t entitled to anything he promised his followers because of his dirty father’s blood. 

Once all of the rituals were observed, bad Death Eaters had been punished, and the good Death Eaters had been rewarded, he did something Elena wasn’t expecting. “Now,” the Dark Lord hissed, “I have a special treat for all of you.” He pointed his wand to the center of the room where a space had been cleared. Ron Weasley appeared. Elena’s eyes widened, but she let nothing else betray her surprise.

“The death of this creature will weaken Harry Potter beyond measure.” There were murmurs among the Death Eaters, “Silence!” He surveyed the room, “And who here would I bestow the honor of killing the best friend of the Boy Who Lived?

No one made a sound. Until Lucius Malfoy, “My lord, I would be forever grateful if you would give me the pleasure.”

“Is there anyone else?” No one said anything, Elena knew she had to act.

“My Lord,” she turned to him and bowed her head as if he were a mighty king and she a princess. “I could make his death exquisitely painful, if only you would give me the honor. The older Malfoy sees that thing’s death as personal, he would surely botch it. But it is no more than some wild animal to me.”

“What do you have to say to that, Lucius?” There was a challenge in his voice.

But Lucius Malfoy wasn’t dumb, “It is, of course, my lord’s choice. I’m sure, no matter who is given the gift, it will be awesome.”

“You do always choose your words well.” He looked at both of them, he right hand and his left for equal amounts of time. “We need a spectacle tonight, the show is all yours, Elena.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She’d have to make it convincing. She’d have to make him hurt. She stepped down from where she was standing next to Voldemort. He was always above his followers, just like all evil lords, he needed his minions to look up at him.

“Ronald, Ronald, Ronald, you always were the stupid one weren’t you? Getting caught, in broad daylight probably.” Ron had a small pin on his shirt, for some reason, his guards hadn’t removed it. It was a phoenix. She took it off and transfigured it into a knife. “You see, Ronald,” she casually sliced his arm, “I don’t really like the Cruciatus Curse. Much to impersonal really.” She slashed him again, a twin on the other arm. The cuts were shallow, but she made sure that they hurt enough to make him cringe. Unfortunately, he’d chosen this time to be stubborn.

“You know it hurts,” she sliced his cheek, “It’s alright if you want to react. No one here will hold it against you.” This time, she actually stabbed him, in the chest, careful to avoid anything vital. He grunted, but that was it. “Ronald, this is hurting you a lot more than it’s hurting me. Honestly I could go all night.”

“My name is Ron.” He finally said.

Funny, one’s name seemed to be a mantra during torture.

“Oh, I think I like Ronald better. Besides, I’m the one with the knife. I could call you Jebediah and you couldn’t do anything about it.” She kept slicing him, and taunting. Once she was sure that the Dark Lord was satisfied, she transfigured the knife back into a pin. “You might as well die with the sign of your Order in your hand.” She didn’t want to do it, but showing kindness here could result in disaster. She slammed the needle of the pin into the fleshy part of his hand. Finally, he flinched.

She pointed her wand at him, and, more importantly, his hand. Her idea could work, but only if she acted really fast. “Portus,” she whispered, and before anyone noticed the tell tale color shift of the pin, she screamed, “Avada Kedavra.” Ron Weasley was nowhere to be seen. Luckily, no one had been standing behind him.

The Dark Lord clapped twice, “You always provide us with wonderful entertainment, Elena.” He stood up from his chair and apparated from the room. The meeting was over. Elena couldn’t wait to get home. She could collapse there, any weakness in front of these people and she might not make it out of the meeting room.

“Some show, Elena,” said someone as she walked out. The sentiment was repeated over and over, she smiled and thanked them, making her way to the door. Voldemort was the only person permitted to apparate out of the building. That, among other things, ensured that he wouldn’t be followed.

Finally, she was outside. “That was something, Elena,” said Malfoy, finally catching up to her. “You’re always a wonder.”

Elena felt like she was going to throw up, and soon. “Thanks, Draco, really. I’m feeling really tired, I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” he turned around, took a few steps, and turned back to look at her, “What did you have against him?”

“What?”

“You talked like you knew him, like you were…like you were trying to say something else, but you didn’t want to others to know. Do you have a longstanding feud, or something?”

She sighed, “I’d never met him before, Malfoy. I just did what I had to do.” She smiled wryly, “Some job, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight, Draco. I’m really tired.” She apparated away.

Only then did Draco realize that she’d called him Malfoy once, not Draco. Something was off.

***

Back at his house, Potter was waiting in his kitchen again. “How’d you get him out?” he asked.

Draco was confused, no one had escaped tonight. “What are you talking about, Potter? I couldn’t save him, it wasn’t possible.”

“He’s hurt badly,” Potter said slowly, “There’s a lot of blood loss, but he’s going to live. He was portkeyed to Grimmauld Place almost an hour ago. There was a pin stuck in his hand that was turned into a portkey. You’re telling it wasn’t you?”

Draco shook his head, “No, he was tortured in front of everyone, and then the person torturing him yelled the killing curse and…he disappeared.”

“You’re the only spy we have in Voldemort’s inner circle.”

Draco met his eyes. “I’m well aware of that, Potter, but thanks for the update.”

“The torturer, does he have any reason for saving Ron? Did Ron ever save his live, or anything?”

“She,” Draco said, “said that she’d never met him before in her life. Right now, I’d be willing to bet that that’s not exactly true.”

“Who is she?”

“The Dark Lord’s left hand, if you understand my meaning,” Harry nodded, “She’s the one I have to hide from.”

“A spy hunter.”

“I’ll talk to her, see what I can find out.”

Potter put a hand on his arm, “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“I’ve been doing this for five years, don’t worry about me.” Draco shrugged his arm off, “You should get going.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

***

Draco didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he apparated over to Elena’s right after Potter left. It wasn’t a suave spy move, but he’d make up an excuse if need be. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer. She was probably asleep, it was almost two AM. But he heard movement inside. He tried the door. It was unlocked.

That wasn’t good.

Elena’s light was on in her room. He saw that it came from the bathroom. He could make out her form sitting next to the toilet, sweating. Then she leaned back over and retched. He walked in and rubbed her back. She was trying to hold her hair back, but there was still some stuck in her mouth. He grabbed what he could and let her finish.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” Her voice was hoarse.

Now it was time for him to be a super spy, “I didn’t think you looked to well after the meeting. I though maybe you could use a little company.”

“I’m fine,” she flushed the toilet.

“It sure doesn’t look like it.”

She met his eyes, “What I say now stays between you an me, alright?” He nodded, “It makes me sick, obviously. I hate torturing people, but I hate watching it happen more. Killing is one thing, I understand that it has to be done. But I’m not a sadist. After what I did to that man tonight, it just broke something in me. He could have a wife, kids. He’s a Weasley, so I know he has plenty of family, and I just tortured him like it was nothing, like he was nothing.”

“And killed.”

“And killed, yes. I’m just sick of all of this shit!” She let her head rest against the wall, “And I know I can’t stop it, we’re Death Eaters, you and I, this is what we do, and we’re supposed to somehow enjoy it. Some job I do of it, eh?”

He gathered her close, now she leaned her head on his shoulder, “I know,” he just said softly. She didn’t know what he knew. Hell, he didn’t know what he knew, but sitting there, he knew that things were different than what they were that morning.


	4. Chapter Three: The Past and Suspicions

Chapter Three

When Elena was still Hermione Granger, there were certain truths that she held to be self evident. The one that she had clung to the longest, even after she had turned into Elena Hisham, was that Draco Malfoy was an evil git who deserved what was coming to him. But sitting on the bathroom floor, being held in his arms when she was at her weakest, she had to admit, he had grown up.

“What are you doing here, Draco?”�

“You already asked that,”� he pointed out.

She pushed away from him and leaned back against the wall. “Your answer was shit and you know it.”�

“You need to lie down, go to sleep.”�

Now he was evading the question. “I’m serious. Why did you come here? It’s three in the morning.”�

“I didn’t lie when I said I came to check up on you.”� He stood up and offered her a hand, “Why would I lie to you?”�

She looked at the proffered hand, contemplating rejecting it. Finally, she clasped onto his wrist. He hauled her up. “You should go home and get some sleep yourself.”�

He looked her in the eyes, “Promise me that you’ll get some sleep?”�

“I will. Now go home.”� He was still holding onto her arm. “Can I have my arm back?”�

He looked down at their arms, “Sorry,”� he dropped her hand rather awkwardly. “Good night.”�

“Good night, Draco, sleep tight.”� As he was walking out the door, he could have swore that she said, “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”� But it was probably only his imagination.

As soon as the door closed behind Draco, Elena went to her bed and lay down. After what she did to Ron, she really didn’t want to go to sleep, but she was really tired, and losing the fight against her drowsiness. She pulled the covers up around her and was asleep in minutes.

_Harry gave a thumbs up, signaling an ‘all clear,’ sliding against the wall from one room to the next, his wand poised like a gun. He motioned them forward with a flick of his fingers. They cleared three more rooms before the hallway branched in three different directions. Hermione was the only one who didn’t want them to split up._

_“They could be waiting for us down any of these passages,”� she whispered harshly. “It’s not safe to go alone.”�_

_“We cleared the bottom floor,”� said Ron, whispering, too, “And most of the rooms up here. Chances are, there’s no one here but us.”�_

_They argued for a few more minutes until Hermione finally relented. Harry went down the center hallway, Ron to the right, and she went to the left. They were to meet back in ten minutes._

_But Hermione would never show._

_She went to the left and cleared three rooms before she saw any evidence of Death Eaters. In the fourth room there had been a lot of dust on the floor, but it had been disturbed recently. At first, she hadn’t been concerned. Death Eaters were too smart to leave tracks in the dust. But the room smelled like blood, and she though she could hear something down the hallway. She continued on. Harry was still the only one of them with an invisibility cloak, but she was charmed so that anyone who was looking would not see her, but something innocuous, usually a shadow. The charm wasn’t perfect, and there were a few ways to see through it, but it was much better than nothing._

_There were four robed figures in the next room. At least, that was how many she saw the first time she looked in. Moody had stressed in one of his many lectures that just because only four were visible, it didn‘t mean that there wasn‘t another lurking in the shadows. They were moving a box into the center of the room manually. That surprised her, these were Death Eaters, evil, but adept in magic, and yet, they were moving a very heavy looking box around by hand._

_It slid into place in the middle of a chalk outline, and then one of the Death Eaters took a crow bar and started to pry to lid off. It took them over a minute of grunting and swearing until the lid finally gave. The shortest of the Death Eaters came forward and looked into the box. “Two texts,”� it was a female voice, “A statue, and a jewel. It’s exactly as the old coot said.”�_

_Old coot? Hermione had no idea who they could be talking about. No one, not even his opposition would refer to Voldemort as ‘the old coot.’ She made a mental note of it, and the contents of the box. She was now in the room, and crouching low on the floor. Though the position was uncomfortable, it was the least likely to be discovered._

_There was a sheet of paper on the side of the box. It looked like an address label, she leaned forward to see what it said in the dim light. Then she leaned quickly back in shock._

_The box was meant for the British Museum._

_That could not be good._

_She pondered briefly if the box could have anything to do with the Horcruxes, but she disregarded that almost immediately. Voldemort didn’t know that any were missing, or at least, he wasn’t showing that he did. And he wouldn’t trust something like that to four people. Besides, four Horcruxes in one place was just asking for trouble. As was staying in the room any longer. Hermione started to stand up as slowly and quietly as possible as the Death Eaters put the lid back on the box and nailed it shut. The female Death Eater held up a hand. “Did you hear that?”� She asked._

_Hermione froze._

_But the other Death Eaters were shaking their heads and voicing their dissent. The woman started walking in the other direction, and Hermione felt a weight lifted off of her shoulders. But she celebrated to soon. A fifth Death Eater walked into the room and shut the door behind him._

_“We’ve been found,”� His voice was harsh and held a note of authority. “Hurry with this, we will not engage with the people here unless we have too. Understood?”�_

_All of the Death Eaters nodded. And then he looked directly at her. Hermione felt herself go cold a moment before she saw a jet of light come from his wand. Then it was dark._

Elena woke with a start. She was out of breath and sweating, and her arm hurt. Actually, it was burning. It was her Dark Mark. He wanted to see her. After a dream like that, she was ecstatic about that. Or not. She got out of her bed, cleaned up, and put on a fresh pair of robes. It wouldn’t do to look disheveled, or wear anything with a hint of Muggle in it around him. She apparated to him and explained her delay immediately, “I’m sorry for making you wait, my Lord, your summons woke me up. I did not want to look dirty around you.”� Wouldn’t want to look like a Mudblood or anything. “I understand fully, Elena. After all, it is only, what, nine o’clock in the morning in England?”� As far as reprimands went, it was subtle and not harsh at all, but Elena understood the warning, and the advice. Wake up earlier. “Yes, my Lord.”� She’d apologized once already, to do so again would show to much weakness. “Blaise Zabini did not attend our little gathering last night. I take it you had something to do with that?”� He raised an eyebrow. It had been years since he’d been raised from a cauldron during the Tri-Wizard tournament, almost ten, in fact. And now, someone would be hard pressed to say that he’d ever lost his power. “He had some Muggle bitch waiting for him in London. Unfortunately for him, he came to me for help. I took care of him, and the woman for good measure.”� He actually smiled, “You are the daughter I never had, Elena.”� Elena smiled, but she really wanted to throw up. He couldn’t love, his soul was in too many pieces for that. But the emotions he showed to her and that damned snake, Nagini, were almost enough to fool someone. Almost. “What do you think of Draco Malfoy?”� The question caught her off guard, or as off guard as she ever let herself be around him. Malfoy, under suspicion? That wasn’t something she’d ever expected. “He’s a good man,”� by Death Eater standards anyway, “and a good wizard. Loyal, but,”� she paused for dramatic effect, “Do you suspect otherwise, sir?”� “Investigate him. He was late to last night’s gathering, and he was reportedly searching the premises sometime before the gathering.”� “I understand.”� “Very well, that will be all.”� Elena nodded, bowed slightly as if he were royalty and she a high ranking noble, and apparated away. 

* * *

Draco was surprised by the knock on his front door at eleven o’clock that morning. Everyone knew that the hours before noon were unholy, and it was alright to hex anyone who showed up uninvited at the door. Of course, if the uninvited person was a rather comely, brilliant witch, it wasn’t required. All of the sudden, Draco felt much more awake. “Elena, I didn’t think you would be awake so early.”� She flashed him a dazzling smile, “I’ve been up for hours. But, fear not, I know your habits and have brought your drug of choice!”� She held up two cups of coffee and handed one to him, “Two creams, one sugar. Sissy coffee, just like you like it.”� He had the urge to stick his tongue out, but he was not eight, and therefore, the action was not socially acceptable. Elena was still standing outside, “Are you going to invite me it?”� She was never this cheery, but Draco chalked it up to a long night and a lot of caffeine. Taking a sip of his coffee, he motioned her inside and closed the door behind her. “Are you feeling alright?”� “Of course, I’ve just had three other large coffees in the last two hours. I’m a little hyper.”� She was almost bouncing in place. He laughed a little and led her to the kitchen. “Have you eaten anything to counteract the effects?”� “Eat? Why would I do such a thing?”� She sat down at his table and started tapping her fingers against the wood. Tap-taptap-tap. Tap-taptap-tap. Draco opened a cupboard and pulled out two plates, then he found some bread and meat. He assembled everything to look edible and sat one plate in front of her, and taking a seat, another in front of himself. “You must eat, you silly girl.”� She kept tapping, but eventually grabbed the sandwich and took a few bites. It seemed to calm her down a little. She still kept tapping her fingers against the table. Finally, she put her sandwich, which she had eaten about half of, down and stopped tapping her fingers. “Do you think I was wrong last night?”� she asked. “About what I said.”� He gave her a measuring look, “What do you mean?”� “Is it wrong that I don’t like torture? Even for blood traitors like him?”� She let her head roll back so that she could look at his ceiling, “I couldn’t sleep last night. His face kept popping in my head, and then there was what I told you. And I was afraid that you’d tell the Dark Lord, and…”� “I won’t tell the Dark Lord.”� Her head snapped down so that she could meet his eyes. “Don’t make promises like that, Draco. I don’t want you lying to him for me. Understand?”� He nodded, “What I meant was that I won’t offer the information. If I’m asked directly, I won’t lie.”� She let out a breath, “Good. But was I wrong?”� He thought about it, “I don’t like killing,”� he finally said, “I’ve frozen before, and, if I can avoid it, I do.”� He paused. “We all have our reservations, Elena, there’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t make you a traitor or anything, right?”� Her eyes narrowed, ever so slightly at that last comment, but she hoped he didn’t notice. “Right.”� She picked her sandwich up again and finished it. They talked for a few more minutes until she made her excuses and left. She apparated back to her apartment and started to compile a mental list of evidence for the investigation of Draco Malfoy. Just because the Dark Lord wanted him to be a spy, didn’t mean that he was, but that didn’t mean that he would be exonerated. 


	5. Chapter Four: Concerning Betrayal

Chapter Four

“I think we should bring her in.”� Draco was sitting at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. He’d risked the trip there to talk to more people than just Harry. McGonagall, Arthur Weasley, and Harry were listening to him intently. The house had been cleared out of most of its usual inhabitants prior to his arrival. There were less than ten people including himself who knew that he was a spy. And he wasn’t comfortable with there even being that many.

“By your descriptions, Mr. Malfoy,”� said McGonagall, “She seems to be the most typical Pureblooded Death Eater.”�

“She’s anything but typical, Professor.”� Many former Hogwarts still called McGonagall ‘professor’ no matter how many years they were out of school. “And most people would say that I am a typical Death Eater.”�

“She’s talking about betraying the Dark Lord.”� Arthur Weasley clarified.

Draco kept from rolling his eyes. “I’m not talking about bringing her in as another spy. Capturing her would seriously injure him.”�

“And how would we go about capturing her?”� It was McGonagall again.

“I’d drug her when she came to visit me.”�

“The fact that you are her friend won’t hinder you?”� This was from Harry.

“What we’re doing here is more important than friendship.”�

Harry nodded, satisfied. McGonagall took over, “How often do you see this girl?”�

“She’s not a girl.”�

“Excuse me?”�

He met her eyes, “You demean and undermine her when you call her a girl, and though she’s only about my age she’s hardly a girl. In fact, she’s one of the most formidable witches I know, especially for her age.”�

“How often do you see this woman, then, Mr. Malfoy?”�

“A few times a week. I’ve been casually courting her for the past few months.”�

“Was anyone in the Order notified of that fact?”�

“No, Professor, I did not tell anyone here that I want to sleep with an attractive and brilliant woman who is in the same age bracket as I am. I hardly see how something like that is relevant.”�

“There are questions of loyalty when lov---”�

Draco raised his eyebrows, “I didn’t say anything about love! And I’d hardly change sides because of a girl.”� He left something unsaid, but no one else mentioned it.

Again. She’d done the math she always had to do when considering whether or not to turn in a Death Eater. It was a simple cost benefit analysis accounting for the total number of deaths, torture victims, and amount of suspicion generated in the Death Eater community. The math wasn’t exact, but the answer was usually obvious. 

Of course, for Draco Malfoy, it wouldn’t be that easy.

He wasn’t a killer, he’d told her as much, and he wasn’t known to be very violent. In other words, he got the job done with no frills. If, in any world, Draco Malfoy would work for the Order, Hermione would have suspected him. But he was Draco Malfoy. No matter how she thought it out, there was that one obstacle, he simply couldn’t be a good guy, it went against every law of nature.

Well, Hermione Granger also couldn’t be a Death Eater.

Elena shook her head, thoughts like that lead to places that she didn’t want to go. Malfoy was a Death Eater, the Dark Lord was just being paranoid, and she had no idea whether she wanted to turn him in. 

On the one hand, the loss of the younger Malfoy would weaken Voldemort, and possibly cause Lucius to question him. The chances of that ever happening were slim to none, but it could happen. 

On the other hand, as sad as it was, Malfoy was her best friend. He could be an evil git at times. And he wanted to sleep with her, which, she supposed, wasn’t a bad thing.

His death would hurt. Elena shook her head, “No emotions,”� she muttered. Whatever she decided, it had to be objective. 

_“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in!”� Hermione scowled at the blond boy. She could see him flinch ever so slightly, but she tried not to smile triumphantly._

_“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.”� It was an insult, she knew, and by Ron’s reaction, it had to be bad, but it didn’t sound very creative._

Elena leaned her head back, “Where the hell do you belong, Malfoy?”�

_____________________________________________________________________

Draco paced in his kitchen, going over the plan in his head another time. He’d invited Elena over for tea, and she was due to arrive within a few minutes. Two cups were already set out, one light red, the other dark blue. Red was Elena’s favorite color, and that cup was already coated with a potion that would slowly put her to sleep. A bonus was that her memories before she finally succumbed to slumber would be foggy and she probably wouldn’t remember whether or not she went home.

There was a knock at his door. Draco took a final breath and schooled his face and thoughts. She couldn’t think anything was awry. More than his life was at stake if she figured out what he was up to. There was another knock, this one more forceful. He walked to the door, “Hello.”� Was his voice to high?

Elena seemed nervous herself. “Hey.”� They stood at the door for an awkward moment. Finally, she said, “Are you going to let me in?”�

He laughed a little, “Sorry, I talked with my dad earlier today. You know how that can be.”�

“Who does he want you to marry this week?”� One of the reasons, perhaps the main reason, he had moved out of Malfoy Manor three years ago, was because his father had put on an almost nonstop parade of eligible suitable women. Of course, the Ministry of Magic thought that Narcissa was the only Malfoy living there.

They made their way to his kitchen, “Well, there’s you, as usual, a cousin of Fleur Delcour--”�

“Didn’t she marry a Weasley?”�

He snorted, “Yeah, who would have thought that Dad would want to be in any way connected to the Weasleys? He suggested another Death Eater’s daughter, but she’s still at Durmstrang, only in her fifth or sixth year.”�

“And how did you evade agreeing to a match?”�

He handed her a cup and she smiled when she noticed the color. She took a sip and savored the strong taste.

“I told him I’d marry you.”�

She swallowed and met his eyes, a look of shock on her face, “You didn’t.”�

He smirked, “You’re right. I just wanted to see if I could make you spit out your drink.”�

She grinned back at him, “Vile, evil man.”� She took another sip, “This tea? Is it stronger than usual?”�

He was in the middle of a sip and coughed a little. “No, but it’s very fresh.”� He took another sip and didn’t meet her eyes.

“Is,”� she yawned, “Something wrong?”� He shook his head and she yawned again, “I didn’t realize I was this tired.”� She took another sip and sat down at the table.

“Are you okay?”�

Her head fell to the table and he thought she’d fallen asleep. But within a few seconds, her head popped up again. She looked very confused. “Where am I?”� Then she saw Draco, “Malfoy?”� It had been years since he heard that much malice directed at him. And her voice sounded different. Familiar, but almost forgotten. He couldn’t place it, exactly, but it caused him to sneer.

She slumped in her chair, this time he waited a few minutes until he was sure that she was unconscious. He poked her shoulder a few times and when she gave no reaction he said to the corner, “You can take her now.”�

The corner spoke to him, “You don’t think she’ll suspect?”�

“No, but the dose was small. She’ll wake up within an hour or two.”�

“We may have to call you in…to make this convincing.”�

“I know. Now, talking to shadows is getting disturbing, either take the hood off, or leave.”�

A wand struck out from the Invisibility Cloak and he heard a muttered incantation, Elena’s body levitated a few feet in the air, then he heard another spell and he could no longer see her.

As he saw her faint outline leaving the room, he said, “Be careful with that one, Potter.”�

_______________________________________________________________________

Harry Potter arrived at number 12 Grimmauld Place a few minutes later. Once he was a safe distance from Malfoy’s house, he’d activated a Portkey and brought them to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He couldn’t wait to unload the Death Eater bitch in a cell and be done with it. No matter what Draco Malfoy said about her, she was the same as the rest of them.

If it weren’t for her kind and her leader, he’d be a normal twenty-two year old, not one facing death at every corner and having the weight of his world on his shoulders.

McGonagall was waiting for him at the door. “She’s not what I expected,”� she said it after Harry deactivated the spell around her and took off his cloak. “Somehow, after all of these years, I expect all Death Eaters to look evil.”�

Harry rolled up her sleeve and revealed her Dark Mark. “She may not have a ‘D’ tattooed on her forehead, but this is close enough for me.”�

McGonagall’s lips tightened, “Take her to the Holding Cell, I’ll have someone examine her. And I don’t have to tell you not to hurt her, do I?”�

Harry’s expression didn’t change, “Of course not.”�

He took her to the innermost room, designated as the Holding Cell when it became necessary to hold certain Death Eaters inside of Headquarters. There was absolutely nothing in the room. It was six square feet and gray. Harry dropped the Death Eater on the floor and walked out.

Ginny Weasley was standing outside as he closed the door behind him. “You didn’t get saddled with examination duty, did you?”�

The youngest Weasley rolled her eyes and pushed past him into the room. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve the hated duty of examining a prisoner, but she had done something, and complaining would only get her in deeper trouble. The girl laid out on the floor where she could see that Harry had dropped her.

Professor McGonagall said her name was Elena. 

Personally, Ginny had always liked that name. The fact that an incredibly dangerous Death Eater possessed it made her like it a little less. She stripped the girls clothes all off and ran her wand over the body. All of the sudden, her assignment got much more interesting.

Usually, a Death Eater was charmed with things to counteract Veritaserum and the like, maybe a few protection spells. They were run of the mill enchantments, in fact, most Order members used them too. Though neither side would admit to the commonality. This girl, Elena, however, was coated in spells. There were layers upon layers of glamours covering every inch of her skin. Even her hair was spelled. And not all of the spells seemed benign.

Ginny stood up, grabbed Elena’s closed and left the room, locking the door behind her. Professor McGonagall needed to see this.

In less than five minutes, they were back in the Holding Cell and McGonagall was examining Elena. “Ginny,”� the older woman said, “There is a vile of potion on my bedside table. Go and bring it here. She won’t be asleep for much longer.”�

Ginny nodded and left the room. Minerva McGonagall got to work on the charms covering the young Death Eater. She tried not to wonder why they were needed, focusing only on the matter at hand. When Ginny got back, there were still many charms left.

She took a clip out of her hair and Transfigured it into a glass of water. “Put five drops into that.”� She nodded to the cup, “If we give her too much, she may not wake up.”�

Ginny, smartly, said nothing.

McGonagall went back to undoing the glamours. After a little less than an hour, Elena had to be given more sleeping potion. Assured that the girl would sleep for at least a few more hours, Ginny began to work on Elena’s lower body. After four hours, McGonagall surveyed to uncovered torso of Elena Hisham.

“Oh, Merlin.”�

She was covered in scars. Many were beginning to fade, probably a few years old, but they were very easy to see. She’d been tortured, obviously for a long time. By rights, judging by the injuries, she should have died.

“Who would do such a thing?”� Ginny asked. Her legs were scarred, too, but not as badly.

“I’d say Death Eaters, it reeks of their cruelty, but few would get their hands this messy. Sadistic Muggles, perhaps.”� She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “If you’d like to leave before I reveal her face, I’ll understand.”�

Ginny shook her head. “I don’t think much could be worse than this.”�

Of course, she was wrong.

It took less than an additional hour for McGonagall to uncover the face and hair. There was very little scarring, especially in comparison to the rest of the body. But the face had changed little in five years. 

“How can that be…”�

“It seems, Miss Weasley, that we were mislead about the death of Hermione Granger.”�


	6. Chapter Five: Answers and Questions

**Chapter Five** ****

Things were foggy as Elena woke up. As she rose from the layers of sleep, she noticed that some things were wrong. It didn’t smell like she was in her room, for one. Where her room was very clean, almost like a hospital, this room smelled musty and old. Of course, that wasn’t the most important thing, there was someone sitting on her right. Though her eyes weren’t yet open, she could feel the presence. She kept her breathing even for a few more seconds. Then she opened her eyes.

****Things were foggy as Elena woke up. As she rose from the layers of sleep, she noticed that some things were wrong. It didn’t smell like she was in her room, for one. Where her room was very clean, almost like a hospital, this room smelled musty and old. Of course, that wasn’t the most important thing, there was someone sitting on her right. Though her eyes weren’t yet open, she could feel the presence. She kept her breathing even for a few more seconds. Then she opened her eyes.

And stared straight into Harry Potter’s. 

There were no words for this moment. She’d never expected to meet him anywhere but on the battlefield ever again. Even now, he couldn’t know who she was.

“I am so, _so_ sorry.”

Okay, maybe he’d figured it out.

Then she felt it. The glamours that were always so thick on her that she felt dirty were gone. She must have been scanned for charms when she’d been captured. 

When, exactly, had she been captured?

“How did I get here?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

She nodded slightly. Then she went over the events of her last period of consciousness in her head. The last thing she could remember was drinking tea at Malfoy’s. She almost smiled, remembering that he’d given her a cup of her favorite color. Or rather, what had become her favorite color after she became Elena. He usually didn’t get out his nice…

Oh, Merlin.

“I was tricked by Draco Malfoy!”

This wasn’t Harry’s first day on the job. They both knew that Malfoy had betrayed her, but he couldn’t let on.

“I know you can’t confirm that. But it has to be true. I have no special resistance to potions, but my last memories are of me at his house.”

“We need to interview you.” He sat up in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable now that she was conscious. “There are some clothes on the chair. Someone will be back for you in a few minutes.” He left the room and she could hear the door lock.

Elena threw the sheet back and walked, half-naked over to the chair where a very colorful set of pajamas lay. She laughed ruefully. It had been her idea to make Death Eater detainees (of course, they could never be called prisoners) wear bright colored, short sleeved clothing. Part of it was for humiliation, the other was as a reminder. Most wizard gear was long sleeved, making it easy for Death Eaters to hide their Dark Marks. Now, even if one were to escape, the world would see them for what they really were.

A loyal servant of the Dark Lord.

The door opened and Ginny walked as Elena was pulling the shirt over her head. “If I wanted to rush you just then, it would have been pathetically easy.”

“But you didn’t, so I guess the point is moot.”

Ginny’s wand was now pointed at her, she seemed much more confident and definitely more grown up since the last time Hermione saw her.

_No, you idiot, you’re Elena now._ “Come on,” the youngest Weasley said. She glanced at the Dark Mark, but looked away quickly.

“It’s not going to go away, even if you pretend that it’s not there.”

The girl said nothing as she led her to the interrogation room. Once inside, Ginny said, “Have a seat.” There was only one chair, and Elena knew that she’d be strapped in the moment she sat down. She was tempted to sit on the floor. While she was deciding, a spell whizzed by her ear. “Sit down.”

“And to think, Gin, we used to be friends.” She sat in the chair and defiantly put her arms on the armrest. Metal bands circled her wrists, still leaving her Dark Mark exposed. As Ginny closed the door, Elena said, “I’ll just wait here.”

Ginny walked down the hall a few feet and leaned against the wall. That woman looked like Hermione, her voice was almost the same, but she wasn’t the girl that Ginny remembered. She took a few deep breaths and pushed off of the wall. Harry and Professor McGonagall were waiting for her. McGonagall had an office on the second floor. As she entered, Harry and the older woman looked at her expectantly.

“Well?” McGonagall finally asked.

“She was defiant, that much hasn’t changed. But, she was much more…sassy. She made no attempt to hide her Mark. I don’t think that she wanted me to forget where, and who, she’s been for the last five years.”

“For guilt?”

Ginny thought for a moment, “I’m really not sure. She chastised me for how I entered the room, but other than that, she didn’t say much.”

“But she was…sassy?” The work sounded foreign on McGonagall’s tongue. Harry hid a small grin.

Ginny nodded.

“Very well. Harry, I want you to find out what’s happened to her. Don’t be too harsh if you don’t have to.” 

“Shouldn’t--”

“Harry was her friends, Miss Weasley. She’ll never open up to an interrogator.”

The girl nodded, “Good luck.”

Harry nodded ant left the office. When he arrived at the interrogation room, Hermione was sitting perfectly still. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t moved since Ginny had secured her. He floated a chair in from the hallway and sat down. Neither of them said anything. Harry was still having trouble believing that Hermione Granger was sitting in front of him after five long years.

“I’ve got all day,” she finally said. “But I doubt that you do. So, are we going to do this, or are you just going to stare at me?”

He pointed his wand at her bonds and they disappeared. She said nothing. “I just want to know what happened to you.”

She shrugged, “It’s pretty simple, really. Five years ago I was just fed up with the whole Order of the Phoenix thing, so I joined the Death Eaters. They obviously had the upper hand.”

The scariest part of her statement was that it didn’t sound like lies. But he remembered the girl that she had been. “Try again.”

“I was madly in loved with Greg Goyle.” It went on like that through several stories.

Finally, Harry got fed up. “What do you want me to say, Hermione? We thought you were dead! McGonagall saw the evidence herself. I said I was sorry, and if I say it again you’ll be even more mad at me. I know that whatever they did to you didn’t break you. Ron would be dead now if you were their girl. We’re trying to bring the bastards down. If you tell me what they did, maybe it will help.”

“Was there any permanent damage?”

Harry sighed, “He lost a lot of blood, but other than a few scars, he’ll be fine.”

She nodded, “It took me awhile to realize that they weren’t going to kill me. They told me that everyone thought I was dead three weeks after I was captured. They said that Bellatrix Lestrange did it. You’ve seen the scars. My torturers didn’t only use the Cruciatus. In fact, they rarely used it. After every session, healers looked in to make sure I wouldn’t die. Of course, if I wasn’t lucky, they gave me a full check up.”

“Were you…” he trailed off, as if afraid to continue.

“Raped?” He nodded, “Yes. In those first few weeks, there was only one rule: Don’t do anything that we can’t fix. Once they started to brain wash me, I didn’t get to sleep much. There was a track always running in the background that said, ‘you’re name is Elena Hisham.’ The volume varied to keep me awake. There were also images of the life they were giving me.”

“We should have looked for you more.”

She met his eyes, “It was five years ago, Harry. We can’t change what happened.”

“After the brainwashing was done, what was next?”

“Once they were sure that I was their girl, so to speak, I was given the Dark Mark.”

“How did they know?”

“There are some things that I won’t tell even you.”

He nodded, if she couldn’t tell him, he was afraid to know.

She continued. “That was four and a half years ago. For the six months following that, I didn’t live alone. I’d proven myself to them, as far as anyone knew, I couldn’t remember my past, but I had no personal ties. I actually lived with Pansy Parkinson for about two months. That was one of the reasons I got close to Malfoy. So, four years ago, I was given a house and new responsibilities. You know what I did, I assume?”

Harry nodded.

“Obviously, I wasn’t looking for real spies. Some people I revealed because the Dark Lord’s attention had fallen to them. Others were fairly important to the cause.”

“How many have you killed?”

“Four. Usually, I turned the ‘spies’ over to the people who are there to take care of traitors.”

“These people have names?”

She nodded, “They’re led by Nott, the senior. His son is under his command, along with a few others. All are known Death Eaters.”

Harry cocked his head to the side and looked at her inquisitively. “Did you ever find any real traitors? No one in the Order, but…others?”

“A few,” she paused, “I told them to get out of England, out of Europe if they could. Change their names, only use magic if they were near magic users, basic stuff.”

“Who were they?”

“You’d only know of one. Blaise Zabini, he was a Slytherin in our year. As far as anyone but you knows, I killed him a few days ago.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know.”

\--------------------------------

Draco Malfoy lay on his sofa, wallowing in guilt while telling himself that he was meditating. He needed to eradicate all thoughts of Elena Hisham before he next saw the Dark Lord.

It wasn’t supposed to be so damned hard.

“It was the right thing to do.”

Of course, repeating this phrase didn’t actually help to convince him, but he kept saying it anyway. He stood up and started pacing, his guilt making him restless.

There was a ringing in the other room. Someone was flooing him. He wasn’t surprised to see his father’s head sticking out of the fire. His day just wasn’t bad enough already. “Come on all the way through, Dad.”

“I don’t have time right now,” Lucius Malfoy said, “However, your mother would like me to invite you over for tea on Sunday. I trust you can make it?”

There was no way out of it, “Tell Mum that I can’t wait to see her.”

The older man smiled, “Good. You know, you’re mother hasn’t seen Elena Hisham in awhile.”

“Dad, if that was an attempt at subtlety…”

“I’m simply saying that she misses the girl, and that she wouldn’t be disappointed if you weren’t to come alone.”

_‘Stay calm,’_ Draco told himself, _‘No one knows that she’s gone yet.’_ He pretended to think for a few moments. “I’ll bring it up the next time I see her. No guarantees.”

His father smiled and inclined his head, “I will see you then.” His head disappeared and the fire went out.

He went into his kitchen and brewed coffee, wishing he had something stronger, but as a spy, it was never smart to willingly let go of one’s inhibitions. He sat down at his table, mug in hand and sighed. From here on out, things were going to get a lot harder.

\-------------------------------------

Minerva McGonagall was surprised and shocked, which were two things that she wasn’t accustomed to feeling. In the past eight hours, a fundamental change had occurred in the Order of the Phoenix. She wondered who recognized it. Potter, probably, maybe even the youngest Weasley, but very soon, everyone would begin to notice, even if they didn’t know that Hermione Granger had turned up alive after more than five years.

Things were moving quickly now, more quickly than she, or anyone, really, could have anticipated. Soon everything would be in place, and they’d all be ready to kill Voldemort for a final time. But there were still many secrets and mysteries that no one needed to know. And one of them could ruin everything.

She just hoped the war finished before anyone found out. 


End file.
